


Take Me To the Backseat

by aunt_zelda



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Fantasizing, Gen, Sleep, Sleepiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye can't get any sleep, so she finds the one quiet, comfortable place in the Bus: Lola.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me To the Backseat

**Author's Note:**

> Did I just write gen fic? Seriously? How? I thought this was gonna go a kinky route and then it just ... didn't.
> 
> Based on these tweets from behind the scenes of the show: http://out-there-on-the-maroon.tumblr.com/post/63440438416/justicemuffins-incomprehensiblelentils-stop

FitzSimmons are up late, chatting about god knows what and blasting Europop. As much as Skye would love to observe the Mating Habits of the White Nerd, she needs her sleep. 

Melinda is flying the Bus. Agent Ward is sleeping because he’s some kind of cyborg programmed to be a perfect little soldier, or something. Coulson is up one level, and thus probably safe from the noise. 

Unable to get peace and quiet in her bed pod thing, Skye wanders the Bus, dragging a blanket and pillow with her. The couches aren’t far enough away from the music, and they’re not comfy enough for sleeping. Skye is too chicken to go ask them to turn it down and find Fitz face-deep in Simmons, or Simmons bent over one of the lab tables, or, who knows, maybe Simmons with something fun strapped to her and halfway up Fitz’s ass. No matter what they’re doing, it’s loud and Skye doesn’t want the awkward blushing and mortification that’ll come of seeing it.

She ends up going down to the hanger, which seems like a stupid choice but actually the quietest place she’s found all night. Must be the reinforced walls or something. Skye is too sleepy to question it, staggering down the stairs and tripping over her feet. 

Unfortunately, there’s no beds or cots down here. Not even some chairs she can push together into a makeshift couch. Just the Jeep, which is locked and …

… Lola.

Skye blushes and looks around guiltily, like a kid with her eye on the cookie jar.

No, no way, even for her, this is crazy.

But it’s not like anyone has to know. She’ll set her phone alarm and be back upstairs before anyone else is awake. And she’ll finally get some sleep.

Skye sets her phone alarm and climbs into Lola. She’s sinfully comfortable, and with the help of the blanket and pillow, Skye gets curled up in a pretty good position. Unbidden, the thought of Coulson getting to third base with a hot date in this very spot rises to Skye’s brain. It’s hard not to imagine him and that Peruvian lady, the sexual tension there was seriously hot. Coulson’s “it’s classified” response to Skye’s teasing just painted kinkier and kinkier pictures in Skye’s already overactive imagination.

It’s a nice thought to drift off to as Skye squirms in Lola, and eases into sleep, unable to hear even the vaguest hint of Europop or nerdsex.

~*~

“Good morning, Skye.”

Skye groans. “Five more mmmmm …” she rubs at her eyes and reaches for her alarm clock.

Her hand comes into contact with a dashboard.

Oh.

Oh _fuck_.

“Oh ffffff – sugar.” Skye splutters, sitting up. She’s still in Lola. 

Coulson is standing beside the door, in yet another impeccable suit, holding a mug of coffee and staring at her. She can’t tell if it’s his “I’m going to toss you out of this Bus and I’m mildly annoyed about the paperwork that’ll entail” face or his “amused cool high school teacher” face. 

“Uh … good morning sir.” Skye manages. 

“Would you like to tell me why you decided to sleep inside Lola?” Coulson asks, and yeah, there’s some kind of edge to his voice. He’s probably deciding whether chucking her out of the Bus now will generate more paperwork than doing it after reading Skye her Miranda Rights. (Oh, wait, they don’t have to do that anymore. _Fuck_.) 

“I … couldn’t … sleep.”

“Evidently you could. Why the new choice of venue?”

“Um … FitzSimmons were … I mean, I didn’t wanna walk in on them doing … y’know, whatever it is that they do, but their music was super loud, and I couldn’t sleep, and the couches upstairs suck, so I came down here and … and …” Skye feels like a colossal idiot. She is officially the Worst Mole In History. She’s gonna get killed before she even gets access to any cool S.H.I.E.L.D. info for Rising Tide. What a waste. Her life has been a complete waste. All because she was fucking tired. 

“Ah. There is a method to the madness.” Coulson sips his coffee.

Skye nods, hopefully. 

“You are dismissed. Briefings are in an hour, I suggest you get something to eat.” Coulson opens the door.

Skype gets out of Lola, dragging her blanket with her. “Uh … sorry, sir?”

“Apology accepted, Skye. But in the future, please remember,” Coulson catches her by the arm and looks right into her eyes. 

Skye feels like Coulson can see right through her, into her soul, her thoughts, see all her secrets laid bare. 

“Nobody touches Lola but me.”

Skype gulps. “Duly noted, sir.” Then she flees back upstairs.


End file.
